


Everybody Stumbles on Fear

by scarletsptember



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, M/M, Slash, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-10
Updated: 2011-05-10
Packaged: 2017-10-19 05:53:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/197649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarletsptember/pseuds/scarletsptember
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alternate take on Bad Day at Black Rock, Slash, Wincest<br/>Summary: Think of this an an alternature take on Bad Day at Black Rock. Sam and Dean find the missing curse box but then things change. The night after, they head to a bar, Sam leaves early and does something he should have never done. He opens the box and hides the rabbit's foot. Things start to slowly change between himself and Dean. After an incident in the Impala he wonders if these changes are because of the rabbit's foot and it's what he wants or if Dean is really being honest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everybody Stumbles on Fear

**Author's Note:**

> The was written for rhondeez who waited ever so patiently for me to finish writing my BB's in order to finish what she bid on in the qldfloodauction . She probably even thought I forgot about her but I didn't! I swear! She wanted an alternate take on the rabbit's foot and I did leave out parts but overall I hope it's okay!!

Sam stared out at the dark shadows of the trees and the road flying by as Dean drove. He ignored the way Dean vented about Ruby. Sam couldn’t tell if the disgust in Dean’s voice was all from Ruby being a demon or if there was something else underneath that waspish tone.

“How could she possibly help us?” Dean glanced over towards Sam, disbelief riddled across his entire face.

“She told me she could help you, okay?” Sam spit out, tired of listening to Dean’s anger. It was a pointless waste of energy being that angry about Ruby.

Dean smacked Sam’s thigh hard. “What’s wrong with you, huh? She’s lying! You’ve got to know that, don’t you? She knows what your one weakness is and that’s me. What else did she say?”

Sam closed his eyes and felt his heart skip a beat at Dean’s words. Yeah, Dean was right. Dean was his one and only weakness. No matter what happened Sam would do whatever it took to save Dean. It was what they did. It was who they were.

“Would you answer that?” Dean let out a frustrated sigh at the sound of an unanswered cell phone.

Sam patted his pockets and raised a brow at his brother, “It’s not mine.”

“It’s not mine either,” Dean frowned trying to figure out what it could be. “Check the glove compartment. It’s Dad’s.”

“Dad’s?” Sam asked already digging through the disaster that tore through the glove box.

“Yeah, I keep it charged up just in case any of his old contacts call.”

Sam flipped the phone open looking across the Impala at Dean, “Yes, this is Edgar Casey. No. No, no, no, don’t call the police. I’ll handle this myself. Can you just lock it back up for me? Great. I don’t have my book in front of me, do you have the address? Thanks a lot.”

Sam eyed the paper he hastily penned the address on before he looked over to Dean, “Dad ever tell you he kept a container at a storage place?”

“What?”

“Outside of Buffalo?”

“No way.”

“Yeah,” Sam nodded tapping his fingers against his thigh, “And someone just broke into it.”

~*~

Sam had the beam of his flashlight aimed at the floor of the storage container while Dean was focused in the marked up space in front of them. “No demons allowed.”

“There’s blood,” Dean gestured with his flashlight to the set of boot treads before he found the tripwire that was set up. It was attached to a shotgun hidden in a large animal skull. He let out a whistle before looking back towards Sam, “Dear old Dad. Looks like we’ve got a two man job and our friend with the buckshot in him looks like he kept walking.”

“So what’s up with this place? Dad would do work here or something?”

“Who knows? Living the high life as usual, Sammy.”

Moving further into the unit Dean let out a chuckle. Sam watched as he dusted off a trophy with that grin that always seemed to tear him up. It made him think of all the things he shouldn’t think about. Like what that grin would feel like against his lips, or along his skin. Dean’s voice broke Sam from his thoughts, “1995, I remember this.”

Sam moved over to where Dean was and felt his lips pulling into a wide smile as Dean leaned into him. “No way! That’s my Division Championship soccer trophy. I can’t believe he actually kept this.”

Dean pressed the dusty trophy in Sam’s hands, his fingers brushing against the pulse in Sam’s wrist as he moved along the shelf muttering, “About the closest you ever came to being a real boy.”

A cloud of dust burst from the shelf as Dean spun around in excitement working a sawed-off in his hands, “It’s my first sawed-off! I made it myself. Sixth grade.”

Sam shook his head, trying his best not to watch how happy the find made Dean. How much it made him want to reach out and touch his brother. Instead he moved further through the unit and popped open a door to the back room where the chain had been cut. This time he did pat Dean on the shoulder to get his attention. The moved slowly taking in everything that was there. Weapons, wooden boxes with symbols carved into them. There was a ton of stuff in this place.

“Holy crap,” Dean moved over towards the weapons first, “Look at this. He had land mines. Which they didn’t take or the guns. So I’m guessing they knew exactly what they were after.”

“These symbols on the boxes,” Sam gestured to them with his flashlight weary of coming in contact with them, “That’s binding magic. These are curse boxes, Dean.”

“Curse boxes?” Dean moved to stand next to Sam, “They’re supposed to keep the evil mojo in right? Kind of like the Pandora deal?”

“Yeah, they’re built so they contain the power of the cursed object.”

Dean scratched at the back of his neck, elbow bumping Sam’s shoulder, “Well Dad’s journal didn’t mention everything, you know? Hexed items, fetishes, he never did write down where everything ended up. You can’t burn em’ all, right?”

“No,” Sam agreed as his eyes catalogued each of the boxes on the shelves and noticed that there was a clean spot surrounded by dust, “This must be his toxic waste dump. And one box is missing.”

“Well,” Dean bumped shoulders with Sam, “Here’s to hoping they didn’t open it. Let’s check the security tapes to see if they were dumb enough to use their own car.”

~*~

Dean pulled up in an alley beside the apartment block next to the car they had spotted on the security tapes. After rolling his window down Dean leaned down to check the car’s plates. “Connecticut, last three digits eight-eight-zero.”

“It’s the car,” Sam eyed it in distaste.

“Should have blacked out their plates before parking in front of security camera,” Dean grinned over at Sam and shrugged. “What do you say we go and pay them a visit?”

They lingered outside the apartment. Sam was on one side of the door and Dean on the other with curious eyes as they listened to the men inside. Sam mouthed, “Poker?”

Dean shrugged before reaching back from his gun and trying the door. His lips spread wide when it opened with out trouble. They moved quietly through the gaudy apartment and spot the two of them sitting playing cards.

“What do you think was so important that we had to steal a box for?”

“It’s a box, we got paid. I don’t ask questions.” The bald man shrugged. “I just do my job and wait for the dough.”

Dean shared an incredulous look with Sam before taking a deep breath, raising his gun and shouting, “Freeze! Nobody move!”

“Don’t move!”

Dean grinned at Sam’s tone and repeated Dean’s words, “Don’t move!”

Both them men’s cards went up in the air as they stood, “What is this?”

“Stop!” Sam had his gun directed at one’s chest.

“We just want the box, and please tell me that you didn’t open the damn thing.”

Sam moved around the grundgy apartment spotting the box, the runes and chains still in place around it. He grabbed it with one hand, “They didn’t.”

“You guys cops?”

“What?” Dean rolled his eyes.

“Are you guys cops?”

“No, we’re FBI and you just got yourself into a world of trouble,” Dean snorted as they backed out of the apartment and made a run for it.

Back in the Impala Sam tucked the curse box under his legs as best as he could while Dean peeled away from the curb and into traffic barely checking to see if he was clear. Sam looked over at Dean who had a hand pressed over his lips and he couldn’t hold it in anymore. He started laughing until there were tears falling from his eyes. “FBI Dean? Really?”

“Oh yeah,” Dean nodded before falling to Sam’s hysteria. The moments like this, when Dean had no barriers up and let everything out made Sam want to reach out and brush his thumb along Dean’s grin, to feel that happiness against his skin. “They didn’t even know what hit em’ Sam!”

Sam shook his head and ignored the flip flop of his heart as Dean merged onto the interstate. He chose instead to focus on the bump bump of the pavement behind the tires.

~*~

“So what do you think Dad locked away in that thing?” Dean asked around a mouthful of burger staring at the box that was sitting at the foot of Sam’s motel bed. Sam ignored the relaxed sprawl of Dean’s entire body and shrugged. He was itching to see what was inside the box. Just knowing that something was in it, something that they shouldn’t touch made him want it even more.

Sam stabbed at his slowly wilting salad and hummed, “Probably something he wasn’t sure of how to get rid of otherwise he wouldn’t have kept it.”

“You think Bobby might know?”

“Why?”

“Those boxes just say ‘Bobby Singer was here’,” Dean shrugged, “It never hurts to ask man.”

“We can call him,” Sam scratched at his chin, “See if he knows anything. I mean if worse comes to worst he won’t know anything at all.”

“We’ll call him in the morning,” Dean stood up scratching his stomach before pressing a hand at the juncture of Sam’s neck and shoulders.

“And what are we going to do between now and then Dean? Have a slumber party? It’s barely seven.”

“I saw a bar on our way into town. I say it’s time for a little bit of fun.”

“And what about that?” Sam pointed at the box. He grabbed his jacket out of the air before it smacked him in the face. “Thanks, I could have picked that up myself.”

“Uh huh, but that would have given you time to wimp out. Stash the box and lock up the room. Nothing will get to it in here.”

~*~

The bar had a decent enough crowd by the time they got there that they didn’t stick out too much. Getting some extra cash was a good idea when ever they were passing through the middle of nowhere America but Sam had to hide a laugh when Dean demanded that, ‘he stay at the bar and look pretty.’ He sat around for almost an hour watching Dean. He watched the way he dominated the room without truly intending to. He watched the way the dusky light played off the sharp lines of his face, the way he moved and laughed. It was hard to stay and watch Dean and not do anything about it.

He settled his tab with the bartender and started back for the motel. The room was cool and empty. He immediately set to rewarding the room; salt lines at the doors and windows before he looked underneath the bed to double check the curse box was still there. He picked it up and set it on the table. He wanted to know what was in it. He wanted to know what was so dangerous his dad hid it away and why someone would want to steal it.

Sam let his fingers trail over the carved out symbols admiring the precision of each line. The symbols on this box had been different than the rest of the boxes at the storage unit. Like the purpose of it was to keep something so strong but so small contained inside of it.

Time seemed to pass faster than it should have as he stared at the box in front of him. It had gotten darker out, quieter. The only thing that had kept him company was the white noise of the window unit that kept the motel room at the just right temperature. Sam checked his watch letting out a sigh. Dean was still at the bar and it was almost one in the morning. Grinding his teeth Sam let his fingers trail over the chains around the box. Dean wasn’t going to be back anytime soon. He probably found someone to go home with for the night.

He didn’t realize what he was doing until it was too late to stop himself. The box was opened and gripped in his hand was a rabbit’s foot. The fur was soft, softer than he could have ever imagined an honest to god, real rabbit’s foot would be. Shaking his head Sam closed the box up and set it back underneath the bed. It wouldn’t do if Dean actually came home early and saw what he had done he’d be in deep shit.

Sliding beneath the covers with the rabbit’s foot still clutched in his hand Sam let out a soft sigh. Sleep came easier than usual. There weren’t any nightmares plaguing his sleep.

~*~

“Dude,” Dean shook Sam awake. Dean was already showered and dressed. The curse box was sitting on the motel table and the chains were in place. Blinking, Sam couldn’t remember putting those back on the box but he must have otherwise he’d wouldn’t have been woken up so gently. He would have been tossed from his bed and Dean would have been screaming at him for being so stupid.

Sitting up Sam hid the rabbit’s foot underneath the sheets and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “What time is it?”

“Eight,” Dean grinned before brushing a hand along Sam’s bare shoulder. “Time to get moving if we want to make good time towards Bobby’s.”

“Bobby’s?”

“Yeah, the guy who’ll tell us what was so damn important about that curse box and if he was in the know of Dad’s secret stash up in New York.”

“Oh, yeah, good idea.”

“You thought of it,” Dean shrugged. “Go take a shower I’m going to head out and pick up some breakfast and coffee. Then we can hit the road.”

Sam waited until Dean had locked the motel room behind him and the Impala cranked to life before he even thought about moving from the bed. He was intent on putting the rabbit’s foot back where it belonged but the damn chains wouldn’t come off. No matter how hard he tried the chains stayed fixed in place.

“This is what you get,” Sam let out an angry growl as his fingers curled tighter around the rabbit’s foot before he gave up and disappeared into the bathroom with a clean change of clothes. The water was warm and didn’t turn cold like it usually did. By the time he made it out of the bathroom with the rabbit’s foot tucked in the inside pocket of his jacket Dean was back and munching happily away on some pancakes. Next to Dean sat a small bowl of fruit salad along with another small stack of pancakes.

Sam sat down beside Dean and started with his fruit first. The taste of pineapples, cantaloupe and honey burst over his taste buds. He didn’t know where Dean managed to find their breakfast at but it was probably the most delicious breakfast he had had in a long time.

Looking up after a few bites of fruit Sam saw that Dean was staring at him curiously. “What? I spill something?”

“No, it’s just,” Dean rubbed awkwardly at his mouth, “Sounds like you’re really enjoying breakfast, that’s all.”

“Oh,” Sam ducked his head in embarrassment, “It’s just really fresh. I haven’t had fruit like this in a long time.”

“Gotta give in to the little things sometimes,” Dean rolled his eyes before plucking up a piece of bacon that had been hidden behind his pancakes and took a hearty bite out of it.

~*~

Sam tried to stretch out his legs and then he twisted and turned in the front seat of the Impala. It was late in the afternoon and they hadn’t stopped for anything but a quick fill up and snack at a gas station. His legs and his back hurt like a bitch and it felt like his stomach was gnawing on his backbone.

“Dean,” Sam rolled his eyes at how whiney he sounded. “Dude, we’ve got to stop. I feel like I’m about to turn in to a hungry hungry hippo over here and start eating whatever is in sight.”

“You might not want to look at the floorboard then Sammy,” Dean snorted already searching the side road signs for a place to stop for some food. “I think there might be a moldy sandwich down there and I can’t deal with a pissy Sam along with a hungry Sam.”

“Dean,” Sam dragged his brother’s name out in a breathy sigh. The images that came to mind, all the other ways that Dean could make him sound that way had Sam shifting in the seat and looking anywhere but his brother. Images still bombarded his brain as he tried to stop thinking about Dean. Fingers running through his hair as lips sealed against his. Sweaty skin sliding and rubbing against another.

Sam rubbed his eyes furiously with the heels of his hands and nearly jumped out of his skin when Dean’s hand landed on his shoulder. “There’s a Biggerson’s up ahead. We’ll stop there and get some food. You can stretch out those gigantic legs of yours too. It’ll be just a few more minutes.”

With interest piqued Sam glanced out the corner of his eye towards Dean. There weren’t any usual quips about being a princess nor was there any name calling like usual. Either Dean was getting tired and hungry too or there was something else going on. Sam pressed his face against the window. It felt cooler than usual. Maybe he wasn’t looking too great.

The Impala slowed a few seconds before Dean pulled into a parking lot and nudged Sam against the hip. “Up and at em’ Sammy. Grub time.”

“Where’d Dad’s journal?”

“Why?”

“Maybe he wrote something down about the storage unit.” Sam suggested knowing that sooner or later he’d have to find away to get the rabbit’s foot back into the chest but until then he couldn’t act any different than usual. He wouldn’t think about the small touches Dean had bestowed upon him lately. It was all just his mind over racing with his own feelings.

Sam swallowed down the lump that formed in his throat when Dean shifted on the seat and pressed in close to reach for the leather bound journal tucked underneath Sam’s seat. He came nose to nose with Sam and Sam froze. He watched the way Dean’s eyes dilated and refocused in on him. He tasted the mint that Dean must of chewed at some point on the breath that they shared. He felt his own heart racing as Dean pressed the journal into his hands. He scrambled from the car and into the restaurant with Dean on his heels calling out his name in confusion.

The confusion got to be more when they made it into the restaurant and Sam asked for a table for two and a loud alarm went off around them. A loud chorus of “Congratulations” erupted around them. Dean shared a look with Sam that said, what the hell? “You’re the one millionth guest of the Biggerson’s Restaurant family!

Sam flinched when balloons and confetti started to fall from the ceiling with the staff singing and taking photos of both of them. Dean let out a booming laugh from all the excitement.

Sam followed behind a waitress timidly while Dean grinned brightly at everyone around the restaurant. As soon as they were situated at the table, Sam refused to believe that Dean purposely pressed his boots along his and Sam decided to instead focus on the menu in front of them and not the overly sized check that was waiting for them as they left.

“That is some luck, Sammy.” Dean stretched his arms high above his head and Sam tried to ignore the flex of muscle he caught as he looked up to Dean.

He ignored the guilt in his chest as he placed his order and mumbled, “Yeah, some luck.”

“You think we should warn Bobby that we’re coming in and what we’ve got with us?” Dean questioned as his fingers tapped the table scant inches away from Sam’s. “I mean what if we brought like, the devil with us?”

Sam couldn’t help but snort out a laugh at Dean’s suggestion. No, it wasn’t the devil. “Sure because the devil could be held in a tiny box like the one we’ve got.”

“You never know and you’ve got to admit that Bobby does know some pretty hinky stuff. Stuff that borders on the dark so you never know. It could be the devil.”

“Sure,” Sam ignored the quirk of his own lips and rolled his eyes at his brother. “Well cal Bobby as soon as we get out of here.”

“Think the locals are pretty jealous that the two of us won all the dough?”

“If looks could kill,” Sam murmured as the waitress dipped into his space to serve their food. Sam pressed back against the booth and managed a low, “Thanks.”

“Not a problem,” She brushed her hand along Sam’s arm, “If you need anything you let me know.”

Sam couldn’t help the wide eyed look as she worked her hips and walked away from the table. Dean leaned across the table and smacked him on the chest. “What the hell was that?”

Sam shook his head. He really wasn’t sure what that was. It was always Dean who got hit on in places like this. Never him. Thrusting his hand into his pocket, Sam brushed his fingers along the silky smooth rabbit’s foot. Maybe it had something to do with what he was carrying around with him. Who knew? Probably Bobby.

~*~

“Did I know about your Daddy’s storage unit?” Bobby questioned over the line as Sam toed at the crackling pavement. “Hell, I built those curse boxes for him. So yeah I knew about his storage unit. Even helped him rig the place up.”

“Well you rigged it up pretty well,” Sam watched as Dean leaned against the Impala with his head tilted back towards the sunlight. He ignored the impulse to step into his brother’s space and to share the moment with him. “Loaded one of the robbers with buckshot.”

“Please tell me you got whatever they took back?”

“We got it back. It was one of the curse boxes.”

“Please tell me you didn’t open whatever one it was. If you did, even if you got the nicest nasty in the unit you’d be in for a world of hell.”

“You know what’s in the smallest box? So we know what we’re carrying to you?”

“Hell Sam,” Sam could hear papers rustling over the line before Bobby let out a groan. “It’s a rabbit’s foot.”

“What’s so bad about that?”

“Major hoodoo stuff, Sam. A conjuror woman from Baton Rouge made that thing. It was meant to kill whoever touched it. So don’t you dare open that box and make sure your brother doesn’t either.”

“What happens if you do touch it?” Sam asked softly so Dean wouldn’t hear him.

“Oh hell, Sam. You touch it, you own it. You get the best luck while you have it but if you lose it? Your luck turns so bad within a week that you’re dead.”

“Well, we won’t get into the box then.” Sam shrugged know that Bobby understood what he was saying. I won’t loose it. Just help me out here.

“I don’t know if there’s anyway to break the curse but as soon as I figure it out I’ll let you know. Until then you better had a death grip on that thing. Anything happened to you, it’ll kill your brother.”

Sam gave a sardonic snort, “I know Bobby.”

He flipped his phoned shut and held it in a white knuckled grip. Maybe they were transporting the devil. They were transporting the devil and Dean didn’t even know that he was the driver. “What’d Bobby say?”

“Not to open the box. That he’d take care of it as soon as we got to his place.”

“Right,” Dean kicked off the tire of the Impala and brushed against Sam, “Well a couple more hours of driving, we’ll get some dinner and stop at a motel for the night.”

Sam felt dread lance straight through his chest as he moved towards the passenger side of the car at a slow gait. Any amount of time and ample enough opportunities from him to lose the rabbit’s foot or the luck to become so obvious Dean would start getting suspicious of what was going on around them.

 

 

~*~

No matter what anyone told you, riding in a car all day with short breaks was exhausting. It had to be the strain on your muscles or the way the sunlight pressed warm and close against your skin. For Sam? It was a combination of that and one other thing. Dean. No matter how many times Dean made it clear that it was okay for him to nap on the road, Sam refused. What if he dreamed? His dreams lately had revolved around one person. So that wasn’t a possibility. For some reason, the stress of his attraction, the damn rabbit’s foot in his pocket and the sunlight warming his skin had him drifting off into sleep.

When he woke his face was pressed close against Dean’s hip, his head pillowed on Dean’s thigh. Dean’s fingers were pulling through his hair and he was humming softly to himself as he drove. Sam was afraid to move and he wasn’t going to try as soon as Dean started to softly talk to himself.

“Never so jealous before, especially not when it comes to you but that waitress. She really laid it on thick for you. I should have been jealous that she was paying attention to you instead of me. God help me but I wasn’t jealous for that reason. I want to be the person who makes you babble and blush like that. Love you more than anything Sammy.”

Sam’s fingers tightened in the bottom of Dean’s shirt. The soft words that poured from Dean’s lips had his heart jack-hammering in his chest. Closing his eyes tighter, Sam breathed in the scent that was Dean. Earth, leather, spice. It was everything he had wanted. Everything he needed. Maybe one day he’d have it. He just didn’t know when that would be.

~*~

“Sammy, time to wake up,” the feeling of Dean’s words against his skin began to pull Sam from his sleep. The way Dean’s hand traced the skin along his jaw and stopped to brush back wild hair from his face tugged at his stomach. It felt so good to have Dean touching him that way.

Sam rolled onto his back and looked up into the deep greens of Dean’s eyes. They stayed staring at each other for a few moments before Dean let out a deep breath and leaned back against the seat. “You hungry?”

“I could use some food.”

“Thought so,” Dean pressed hand against Sam’s stomach, “I thought your stomach was going to chew out of your skin and try for me it was growling so loud.”

Sam sat up and ran his hands through his hair and looked around. “Where are we?”

“Motel,” Dean answered as he picked up a bag of takeout. “I stopped on the way in. Just gotta get a room for the night and we can rest up for the last leg of the drive tomorrow.”

“I’ll get the room,” Sam stepped out of the Impala and stretched his arms upwards towards the sky. He crossed the lot and stepped into the office. He had barely opened his mouth when the girl at the counter held up her hand.

“We only got one room left. It’s got a King and the usual junk. Television, phone and you know a bathroom that works. If you don’t want it the nearest motel is about a hundred miles,” She stuck her hand in the general direction of east, “that way.”

“How much?”

She lowered her hand and eyed Sam up and down in one clean sweep, “Sixty bucks for the night.”

Sam pulled out his wallet and passed over a credit card. He wasn’t sure if it was in his best interest to get a room that only had one bed. Seeing as he and Dean would be sharing it and it would be hard to keep his hands to himself now that he knew that Dean felt the same as he did. He wasn’t going to sit in the car for another hour though. He needed to stretch out and actually sleep in a bed. Hopefully one that wasn’t as lumpy as the last one he slept on.

He leaned into the Impala, “Got a room.”

“Which one?”

“Last room at the end,” Sam gestured towards it. “Only thing is it was the last they had and it only has a king.”

“Whatever,” Dean waved Sam’s fears off, “I’m exhausted man.”

“Yeah,” Sam wiped a hand over his brow and spotted a drink machine. He passed the key over to Dean, “I’ll get some drinks and I’ll meet you there.”

“Get me something good.”

~*~

Dinner was a quick affair that was eaten on separate sides of the bed as Dean flipped through the channels on the television. This was probably the best motel room they had every stayed in and they planned to take full advantage of it.

“There isn’t any static,” Dean grinned as he settled for an old Clint Eastwood movie and leaned back against his pillows. “You scored some nice digs, Sammy.”

“Hopefully the bathroom isn’t the bad end of the deal.” Sam dodged Dean’s hand and ducked into the bathroom. Low and behold it was clean and the water ran hot. It ran hot through two showers and didn’t even start to cool to Dean’s excitement.

“Glad to have the road off of me,” Dean grumbled as he slipped underneath the covers and onto his stomach. He was already falling asleep and leaving Sam to wonder what the hell he was supposed to do with himself in the mean time.

After an hour of mindless zoning to the western Sam turned the television off and tugged the covers up to his chest before rolling onto his side and away from Dean. Hopefully he wouldn’t do something stupid in his sleep.

 

~*~

Sam was surprised to have woken up first. He was shocked to see Dean curled up with his face resting against Sam’s chest looking like he was completely content with the position they were in.

It didn’t take long for Dean to wake up. The gentle breaths of sleep disappeared and sleepy eyes flickered open and up to meet Sam’s. It was almost automatic the way Dean leaned up and brushed his lips against Sam’s. It was chaste, soft and everything Sam wanted more of. He didn’t hesitate to respond. If anything it could be chalked up to the confusion of sleep and Sam went with it. His lips moving against Dean’s and tasting parts of Dean that drove him crazy with want.

Dean’s hands were everywhere. At Sam’s hip at the edge of his jaw. Sam pushed at Dean, hovering over him and staring down into wide eyes. He watched the rapid rise and fall of his Dean’s chest. He wanted more, but he was afraid to initiate more. He was afraid of what Dean might think later on. What this might do to them.

All the fear was erased when Dean surged upwards and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of Sam’s lips. “Stop thinking.”

Sam let out a deep breath and chased for Dean’s lips but Dean stopped him with a finger to Sam’s lips, “We start this we’re never getting to Bobby’s and getting rid of that curse box.”

Sam rolled onto his back and through an arm over his eyes. He didn’t want to get rid of the rabbit’s foot now. What would happen if he did? Would everything change? It didn’t matter. He knew they needed to get rid of the damn thing. “We should get going then, get rid of this thing.”

“Damn right,” Dean grinned and pressed his still smiling lips against Sam’s. It felt even better than Sam thought it would.

 

~*~

Bobby’s house was a welcomed sight as much as it wasn’t. Sam knew that Bobby would help him get rid of the rabbit’s foot but Dean would know he had gone into the curse box and that was a world of trouble Sam didn’t want to get into. Not now, and not ever.

“Time to get this over with,” Dean groaned as he got out of the Impala and Sam followed suit but with the empty curse box in hand. Bobby was on the porch, flask in hand as they made there way from the Impala to him. Dean caught the flask Bobby tossed over and took a healthy swallow before handing it over to Sam.

“Right, well you two managed to lock up the rest of them right?”

“Yeah, this one was stolen so we figured you’d know what to do with it once we got it back.” Dean shrugged. “what’s in it anyway?”

“Think it’s a rabbit’s foot if my memory is serving me right,” Bobby readjusted his hat before Sam handed over the box. “We’ll just toast this up and be done with it.”

“That’s it?” Dean’s eyebrows rose to his hairline. “Just got to burn it?”

“Is that not good enough for you princess?”

“I figured there’d be some sacred spell since you stuck in a top security.”

“The fact that it kills who ever touches and loses it is what made it top security.” Bobby rolled his eyes. “Dean go and get us some beers, Sam I need to show you something out back.”

Dean eyed the two of the curiously but headed into the house anyways. When Bobby wanted audience with either of them privately it was usually to rip them a new one.

Sam walked quietly beside Bobby until they were in the middle of the junkyard and near a fire pit Bobby had set up at some point. Probably years ago if the rust was anything to go by. Bobby tossed the box on the top of it and lit the flame. “Go ahead and through it in.”

Sam dropped the rabbit’s foot on the fire and listened to it crackle and spit with anger. He waited for it to disappear into ash before he looked over at Bobby. “So, thanks for taking care of that.”

“Are you really that stupid?” Bobby growled out. “Going into things that have been locked and protected? What the hell were you thinking?”

Sam stepped back and shook his head, “I wasn’t thinking. I just – I don’t know Bobby.”

“Yeah, well next time you ‘I don’t know’ I want you to remember that I ain’t got all the answers. This one I almost didn’t have so you consider yourself lucky you idjit. What were you thinking?”

“I don’t know!” Sam repeated and he looked at his feet. “Everything just keeps pushing in. Then there was this box and… One minute it was closed and the next I had the rabbit’s foot in my hand. Then everything started happening and I didn’t want to let you know what I had done. I just wanted to keep going like I was. Everything was so good.”

“There are people out there looking for this thing,” Bobby pulled Sam into a tight hug. “What would we have done if you lost it?”

“Lost what?” Dean’s voice had them both spinning towards him. Sam’s eyes widened in fear and Dean tugged at his hat muttering about Winchesters and driving him crazy as he passed by Dean.

“Lost what, Sam?” Dean repeated as he stepped closer. Sam met Dean’s eyes wearily.

“The rabbit’s foot.”

“You,” Dean rubbed a hand over his mouth before he stormed over towards Sam. “You opened that damn box? When? Why? You idiot!”

“I don’t know,” Sam felt like that was all he said since they made it to Bobby’s. “I don’t know!”

“When?” Dean’s eyes were like fire and his lips were pulled taunt. “When did you open that box and take the rabbit’s foot.”

“That night, you stayed at the bar and I went back to the motel.” Sam croaked out and flinched when Dean lunged forward. Instead of the blow he expected Dean had wrapped his arms around him tight enough to cut off his air supply.

“What would I have done if you would have lost it? I would have lost you, Sam.” Dean’s hands moved to cup Sam’s face, their lips a breath apart. “I can’t lose you. Not now.”

“I don’t want to lose you either,” Sam whispered.

“You’re damn lucky I love you otherwise you’d be standing out here by yourself.” Dean pressed his lips hot and fast against Sam’s before he pulled back. “You’re lucky that I know you’re an idiot sometimes.” Dean’s lips were back against Sam’s, moving, tasting and biting. “You’re lucky you were so damn lucky that Bobby knew how to help you.”

Sam tugged Dean closer. His lips chasing Dean’s between words and panting breaths, “I know.”

“You going to freak out?” Dean asked as he maneuvered Sam behind a pile of junk cars and titled his head back to look Sam in the eye. “Cause rabbit’s foot or not, you’re not that lucky.”

“As long as you’re here I am,” Sam took Dean’s slack jawed shock as an invitation. As long as Dean was here everything would be okay. Breaths mingling, lips and tongues tasting, Sam felt relief pour through his bones. It wasn’t just luck that brought them together. It was something more than a curse box, rabbit’s foot and luck. His brain fizzled out at the feeling of Dean’s hands against the skin just above his jeans. Maybe one day he’d figure it out. Right now he was focused on the heat of Dean’s touches and that’s all he cared about.


End file.
